a man walks and drinks his way through the British countryside

Month: October 2017

I love to read. During the course of the last two decades, I’ve had periods of voracious reading followed by prolonged periods of nearly none. I find that it’s not the actual reading that’s a chore but finding the next book. For a long time, I refused to read fiction, feeling I was somehow wasting time on stories rather than facts. Once I mined a subject to my satisfaction, I’d spend months trying to gather enough interest and commitment to tackle something else. Other years, I’d latch onto an author or fiction series and, when done with that, fall into the same trap.

Almost three years to the day, I finished East of Eden. It was in the middle of this Steinbeck kick when I realized there was a trove of rich American literature of which I was completely ignorant. The following weeks were spent searching the internet for an enticing list of classic American novels.

Ultimately I landed on a list of 100 American literature titles compiled by American literature teachers. It’s not a perfect list by any means but it was worthy enough. After a cursory scan of the list, I determined I’d already read a paltry 13 titles and set to begin the remaining 87.

For about a year I plowed through the first half of the books on the list. At which point I lost interest and either picked something else up or stopped reading altogether for a few months. For the next two years, it was an on and off affair, occasionally getting stuck in some novel I truly hated. I put down the list about 9 months ago and watched the small stack of ten or so already purchased books gather dust in the corner of my room. About three months ago, I determined to give it another go. There were a few books in the queue I really didn’t want to read but I pushed on and managed to finally finish this week.

The experience was challenging but more rewarding than I expected. Because the books were picked by teachers, there was a definite preference towards stories about minorities – frankly, books I would have never otherwise considered. It was one of these threads that nearly threw me off the list for good: a group of books bunched together towards the end of the list about 1st generation female latin American immigrants, which often all pulled from the same tired script. I could have done with two rather than six. Also, there were four Toni Morrison books. The first three of which I really did not like. Any time I thought about picking up the list during that last year, a 300 page Morrison book, sitting on top of the stack, mocked my commitment. To my utter surprise, I ended up really enjoying that last Morrison book (Song of Solomon).

Themes emerged. Male African American authors generally decried the racial inequities, while female African American authors more often criticized the dominating violence of the African American patriarchy. Native American authors generally did not write about the evil of the white man but the fear of ostracization from their own community. Almost all the Latin female American stories recounted coming of age in America with traditional parents, sexual awakenings, and the inevitable discovery that their ethnic culture was full of previously unknown beauty and poetry. The handful of plays on the list were very powerful, two day reads that somehow cut to the marrow of man’s fallibility and mortality.

One of my favorite books, Ethan Frome, told a disaster story of a man who decides to leave his wife for a pretty young woman, which was all the more powerful because it followed one of my least favorite books, The Awakening, about a mother and wife who decides she was just not into her family anymore and deserts them to lead a much more interesting and successful life as a budding artist.

The ultimate picture derived from this tapestry of stories reveals a country of outsiders: immigrants, underclassed, poor, heavily occupied and marred by constant war but, more often than not, optimistic and hungry for adventure. The exercise has forever changed my understanding of this country.

If you’re like me and find yourself struggling to settle on new books to start, I encourage you to find a similar list and give it a go. There’s something kind of fun about picking up a book blind, not knowing a single thing about the plot or even genre. There’s little doubt that after some dedication, you will glean a new and unexpected truth.

After a couple of post-list books that I’ve been meaning to get to, I think I might pick up another list. I’ve already found one that’s a bit more ambitious than this one. Wish me luck!

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One of my goals for the LeJog walk is drinking the equivalent of one British beer barrel (288 imperial pints at 20 ounces each) over the course of the three-month journey. If you would like to support me in this worthy endeavor, you can send me a message and donate via PayPal or credit card by clicking the pint link directly above.